A Cut Above the Rest
by TheClumsyHero
Summary: David receives a surprise visit from a particular insane doppelganger at an ungodly hour of the evening. David is always happy to see an old companion; Daniel, on the other hand, is feeling particularly sharp. Rated M for intense language and gore.


There was a cold wave that flooded the councilor's body; it was something foreboding, something strong enough to pull him out of his dream filled state. A gasp passed parted lips, and the red head quickly found himself upright. A shaking hand tugged at the material of his shirt, and for a moment he found brief panic build in his chest.

His emerald irises danced around the room, of course coming up with nothing of interest, and finally landed upon the green numbers glaring back at him from his alarm clock. It was early—too early for him to be awake but it seemed that would be the case. A laugh took place of the gasp, and slowly he found his head resting against his soft pillow once more.

"Golly, I can't remember what I dreamed about but it must have been something bad!" His voice was hushed, but it still held that jovial tone the councilor was so familiar with.

For some time, David simply found himself staring at the roof of the cabin, allowing his chest to rise and fall, waiting for his heart beat to slow and for his breathing to steady. After all of that worrying he found a smile creep across his face. To think, he had allowed something as simple as a dream he couldn't remember worry—

David's train of thought came to an abrupt halt when a shadow danced across the top of his ceiling. He remained silent, his eyes now narrowing, focusing only on the dancing shape that no doubt came from the window beside his bed. Who on earth was that—and why on earth was a camper up now, at this time of night? His lips found themselves momentarily twitching, before he turned over and gazed at the culprit.

This time he had a reason for the increased heart rate.

A wisp of blonde hair filled his vision which soon moved to crystal blue eyes. They were tired, and filled with an emotion David wasn't entirely certain he could put his finger on. And then the apparition of a man smiled a wide, toothy grin.

" _Daniel?"_

He received no verbal response, which only lead him further to believe that he was still dreaming. But the man reacted; he raised a hand, gave a half-hearted wave. David pushed the covers back and practically shoved his boots onto his feet. He wasn't exactly presentable in his camp t-shirt and too-big pajama pants he'd had to tie tight to fit around his thin waist. His boots looked silly, and remained untied as he flew out the cabin door to meet with the ex-councilor.

When he'd reached the window, he found the white-clad man to be nowhere in sight, which lead to his circling the cabin. A flash of white hit his eyes, and David found his mouth fall agape.

Daniel had certainly seen better days; his skin was pale—paler than David had ever remembered it being, anyway. His eyes seemed tired, and were plagued with dark bags that seemed to be commonplace at this point. His clothes were dirtied; some aspects still held that pristine white but others were covered in dirt and—and he wasn't sure what else but it made him feel the slightest bit unsettled seeing it. His hair was wild, his expression wilder; but he supposed that was what happened when someone drank some bad kool aid.

David was the first to address the elephant in the room; he found a small grin gracing his own pale features, and a hand found itself rubbing the back of his neck.

"Daniel, what are you doing here? I mean, it's great seeing you again but it's so late!"

When the blonde moved it was very slow, but very calculated. His gaze was averted, he didn't even pay David any mind. There was a thick silence that was held between the two, and yet David smiled through it all. It made Daniel want to _vomit_ despite the amount of bile that he had already seen—more than he ever would like to in his life. But he supposed he was alive, that was all that mattered.

"Well, David," he finally began, tone hushed so as not to bring any unwanted guests into their conversation, "I had some unfinished business here. I couldn't just abandon all the campers, that would have been irresponsible."

Daniel watched David like a predator; he watched as his face twitched, as he momentarily faltered, as he searched for the sickeningly positive words he would spew back to the doppelganger standing before him.

"I didn't really think there was any—unfinished business, Daniel. I mean, after everything it turned out we didn't even need a new councilor at all! But, I would never leave someone out on their own, if you need a place to stay I would welcome you with open arms."

Every muscle in the cult leader's body _tensed_ at that remark. He wanted to laugh, wanted to go into _hysterics_ because there was no way anyone could be so naïve. And yet here David was; standing right in front of him, smiling.

"I suppose I should have been clearer. I have unfinished business with mainly you, David."

Daniel turned his back after that, had the audacity to turn his back because David was no threat to him. The man couldn't hurt a fly; hadn't even deduced what he had been doing a year ago—a year, that surprised him every time he thought of it, but it was no matter now. Instead he found himself straightening up by running a hand through his disheveled locks, and finally he moved, he approached the red-head, placed a hand on his shoulder, walked a few steps with this close contact.

"You see, David, you messed things up for me last time I was here. It caused me a lot of trouble, really, and I didn't appreciate having to deal with it. You know, it's a shame, you're such a good guy, David, but you're so darn naïve! It did you in in the end!"

This caught David off guard, caused his brows to furrow and his smile to finally fade from his face. His head turned to face the man so close to his own self, and felt his shoulder graze the cabin as he did so.

"What on earth do you mean by that, Daniel? Did me—"

And then the air was knocked out of David's lungs.

He hadn't even noticed he'd allowed Daniel to corner him as he had, allowing him to slam poor David into the building, allowing him to press a strong hand against his mouth, allowing him to slide out that crooked blade of his that accompanied that crooked smile on his face. He could feel it press against his throat, could see it glittering against the moonlight.

As if he had already understood his next move, the pressure against his neck increased, essentially silencing any sound that would have escaped.

"Well, not so fast, David! We don't want any uninvited guests to our game. That'd be very unfortunate for them. I'd suggest you keep your mouth shut."

Not that he had any choice; David had been confined to breathing heavily through his nose to compensate for how rapidly his heart was currently beating. Oh god Daniel—oh God _Max_. He had toned him out, hadn't ever questioned Daniel's innocence, because there had been no guilt. He tried to tell him, tried to _warn_ him about Daniel and he hadn't listened. How could he be so _stupid._

"Anyway," the cultist continued, calmly, his blade wavering, "I guess I should get things over with; I don't have all night." And he recoiled, the blade swung directly towards David's chest—

And stopped.

"Oh, silly me, that's not the best strategy. Think of the mess. Well, you know what they say. X Marks the spot."

It was then that twisted dagger finally met the man's soft flesh. It sliced through his shirt and into his skin, leaving a mixture of frayed fabric and ripped flesh which proceeded to spout forth blood the moment the knife made contact. He was only satisfied once a large X had been left on the councilor's body, and then his hand pulled back and his wild gaze watched the emotions flicking over David's face.

He screamed—he knew he had been told not to but he _wailed_ into the monster's hand as his knife ripped through his flesh. Hot tears formed and quickly fell, running over his face and even trailing down the pale hand pressed firmly against his mouth; a hand pressed so tight he could feel his front teeth digging into the flesh. He didn't stand and take it, no, hands had found themselves clawing at Daniel's own, leaving marks down his arms and it was that action that resulted in another loss of breath as he found himself thrown to the ground, leaving Daniel to straddle his prey.

Once more David could only watch in horror as the knife rose, hurdled down towards his chest and again stopped.

Before it was slowly inserted into the man's lower abdomen.

Again, he screamed but this was different, this wasn't the _David_ scream, the girlish wail the entire camp was so accustomed to. This was a shout of pure agony silenced by this man.

"Darn, sorry, didn't want to rush things. Just hold that for me while I think for a while. You know, you don't have to worry David. I won't drag things out like this with the rest of the campers. You're the only one getting the special treatment because you're the one who managed to royally piss me off—"

This time around it was Daniel hitting the ground.

David had made a move; it had taken all his strength to throw Daniel but he had succeeded. There was a brief struggle; one that ended with the knife back in Daniel's possession, but had also lead to him receiving a hard knee to the stomach and resulted in David's fleeing.

He cursed, and quickly recomposed himself to find the asshole gunning it for the woods. Fine, if he wanted a chase he'd give him one. Worst case scenario he bled out in a ditch and Daniel didn't get to finish his fun. He was back on his feet in little time and was sprinting after the wounded David.

There was a madness about Daniel as he entered the woods—he could not allow this man to get away _again._ He had made a fool out of him, had thwarted his plans, had been the main cause of his hospitalization and he would not stand for it. He found himself coming to a halt when his gaze met with blood splatter. A wicked grin took hold once more; so, he was hiding. Of course the coward would.

"Oh, David. Come out and play." His voice was sickeningly sweet; so playful, so deceiving.

"Hey, Daniel."

He turned on the drop of a dime and his smirk quickly faded into a look of horror.

"Don't touch my **_fucking_** campers." And then everything went dark.

David hid, yes, he was no idiot. He had armed himself, had smashed Daniel over the head as hard as he possibly could. He saw the gash, but also noted the man was still breathing which, surprisingly, caused a sigh of relief to pass David's own lips. He was no murderer, no matter what the circumstances. But seeing Daniel lying unconscious, the blood dripping from his head, the blood— _his_ blood staining his hands and—

 _"Jesus Fucking Christ, David!"_

David's blood had suddenly run cold. He found himself turning, eyes wide in horror as they met with the voice he knew all too well.

"Max—what are you—what are you doing up why are you—are you okay?"

"Is that fucking crazy cult Daniel?"

"Max go—go get Gwen, okay? Then go back to your tent. Have her—" But he couldn't finish the sentence.

The moment he'd attempted to approach the child he found his knees buckling. Adrenaline had fueled his actions up until that point and he had, honestly, forgotten about the marks on his chest and, more importantly, about the gaping stab wound in his abdomen. When David hit the ground, it was enough to get a grunt out of him, and two hands found themselves suddenly pressing the tender area.

And he yelled once more.

The moment David had faltered, Max, though he would never admit it, had immediately found himself at David's side, fear evident in his every action. It was only now that he noticed the blood—no, the complete carnage that was David's chest, and the crimson stained area at the bottom of his shirt.

Shit—fuck.

"Holy shit, David—I can't—you can't just stay here, I'm not leaving you here you fucking moron!"

"I'll be okay—really Max, don't worry a-about me."

It scared Max half to death watching David's face flicker momentarily into one stricken with pure agony and then back to that _stupid fucking smile._

"David, you fucking—God dammit you have to get up, you can't just—if I go to get Gwen—" Max could feel the tears stinging at his eyes and it was suddenly very apparent how bad he wanted to scream. It wouldn't help now, though. Instead he grabbed at David's arm and _pulled_ with as much force as he could possibly handle.

"Dammit, David, you'll never make it if I run there and back just—just _get up_ , God dammit!"

The last thing David possibly wanted to do was pull himself back up onto his feet. His body was filled with an ache he had never felt before. His side provided a searing, unrelenting pain, and at least while being on his back it provided some relief.

But Max was right. If he laid here he could certainly risk bleeding out in front of Max—Oh Gosh, no. _No._ He would never put him through anything like that.

Agony tore through David's body, caused tears to fall and shouts to slip past his mouth and he watched the horror that crossed Max's young face. But this time he had needed a moment to pull himself together. And he smiled again—the rage inside Max flared.

He was crying, but he linked a hand with David's and forced the two of them through the woods, back towards the councilors' cabin. Every step was unbearable, and at times David found his legs wouldn't work the way he wanted, causing him to stumble, to let out a soft grunt, but hold back the screams that wanted to leave his body. And every time he stumbled it sent more fear into the boy's being. David was usually so full of energy, he would have been light years ahead of Max by now but instead he watched him slowly drag himself back to camp.

He looked paler than he had before. A hidden sob choked the youth.

David had not lead Daniel too far away from the initial sight of the attack but for the pair it seemed like he had run for hours. Max noticed the gradual decline in David's pace, he noticed the faltering in his expression, the way his breathing hitched. The councilors' cabin was finally in sight, was only a few feet away and yet David found himself collapsing once more.

"God dammit, David!"

But this time he really looked like death.

Max saw the sweat beading at the top of his brow, the paleness of his skin, how _hard_ it was to see his chest rise and fall. And so, he ran for it.

The flood gates had opened and by the time he was pounding on Gwen's door he was sobbing. He screamed, and pounded until he received an extremely surprised Gwen.

"Max, what—what happened?"

"David—David's hurt, Daniel he—fuck, Gwen call an ambulance call the cops and—and get your first aid kit, Gwen he's going to die, fuck, he's going to die—"

While he hadn't provided substantial information, it was enough for Gwen grab her first-aid kit and to sprint to where Max had taken her. When she saw the man in question, Gwen wanted to quite literally collapse herself. She screamed his name before kneeling by his side.

"David—holy shit, David hey, come on answer me." Her voice shook, but she knew she couldn't fuck up.

Not now. If she didn't act now she would risk losing him. At this point the phone had been passed to Max, leaving Gwen to concentrate on her co-councilor. His eyes seemed so clouded, so far away, and she immediately wanted to start sobbing. Instead she found herself pulling out the bandages stored away in her (heavily underqualified) medical kit and pressed them _hard_ against the wound.

That was enough to get another yell out of David.

His hands clasped around her own and she was thanking anyone that cared that he was responsive. But she did notice the signs of shock, _knew_ she could only buy him so much time. All she could really do was try and stop the blood flow until the paramedics arrived.

She fucking hated it.

"David—David hey, please stay awake okay? Don't—You can't leave me here all alone, alright? What would we even do without you? It's not Camp Campbell without you."

The man faltered; his muscles twitched, and then he found his lips parting:

"I wouldn't—. . . dream of it."

It was Gwen's turn to feel tears running down her cheeks. She decided she did not want David lying the cold ground and so she carefully maneuvered the man so that his head could rest in the crook of her neck. He made a few noises of protests, but was quite obviously comfortable in his new position. Max had rejoined the two while Gwen had been in the middle of this transition and he had made sure she received the worst berating she had ever heard because _she was hurting him, she was hurting him and oh god Gwen stop it you're going to kill him you can't move him like that._

But eventually he stopped his yelling, if even for a moment, and left the two to their sobbing.

The commotion had been enough to wake some of the other campers—and those who had not been awake certainly were after the uproar that occurred after all had seen what had happened to their beloved David. They clumped around the pair; some couldn't handle the sight, others found themselves just as emotional.

But Max found his fire once more.

"God dammit, David you—I saw you do the coolest fucking thing I've ever seen and now you're just giving up? You're not allowed to die, David, I have another seven years of making your life hell, you can't just cut it short! So, you—you can't die David. You can't—die." And Maxed succumbed to his messy sobbing that followed, and instead took to gripping tightly at his free hand.

"David?" Fear gripped the woman's chest when the uneven breathing suddenly broke.

She watched as he shifted, his face cheery as ever and yet it was the saddest she had ever seen it.

He hates the crying—hates seeing the sobbing and sad faces all on his account. It's why he fixed his position, why he smiled despite the burning in his chest, the unbearable pain Gwen was applying. He was scared—Oh god he was so scared because with each moment, with every drop of blood he could feel his life slipping out of him.

But he continued to smile.

His lips parted, and everyone stood in silence, despite the few sobs that rose, and then David's voice came out as a faint whisper;

"There's a place I know that's—tucked away,  
A place where you and I can stay.  
Where we can go to laugh and p-play,  
and have adventures every day—"

It was no longer possible for Gwen to hold back the sobs that racked her body. David felt the pressure on his hand disappear as he took a long breath. Red and blue lights were flashing in the distance, slowly approaching, a beacon of hope which lead him onward.

"I know it sounds hard to believe but guys and gals it—it's true. . .  
Camp Campbell is—the place for. . . me—and—"

"David—DAVID!"

Max ran with the mix of paramedics and police, and found himself watching as Gwen tried desperately to revive the unresponsive David. And things became a blur. He was swept up by paramedics, forced into an ambulance, and God help anyone who didn't let his ' _son'_ into the mix. The ambulance sped off into the night, taking both David, and now Max with it. She could hear the police behind her in the woods, could hear the screams and the struggle and continued to watch until the lights on the ambulance completely faded and the siren was no longer audible.

And then there was silence. Gwen had been left alone with a group of sobbing campers, and the sight of her dead friend lying motionless in her arms forever burned into her memory.

"Oh god, I can't—"

And she collapsed.


End file.
